


Always Fresh

by sloganeer



Series: kaná:ta' still means "town" in Mohawk [8]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Canadian Character, Canon Queer Character, David Rose Loves Food, Future Fic, Husbands, M/M, Post-Canon, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: “Should we get some Timbits?”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: kaná:ta' still means "town" in Mohawk [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686322
Comments: 14
Kudos: 135





	Always Fresh

“Why are you turning?” David asks. He’s been quiet since they left home, and Patrick wasn’t even sure he was awake. If they leave the house at six, planning for only two quick stops, they can pull into his parents’s driveway in time for a late lunch. David had to double-check his bags, twice, while Patrick waited in the car, so this first stop was going to be a quick one at the drive-thru, then back on the highway.

“There’s a Tims,” Patrick says, nodding at the sign. He needs an extra large coffee and an old fashioned doughnut to get him to their first rest stop.

“Ew.” David curls further into himself, hood up, hiding the grimace on his face, Patrick is sure.

“I don’t think Mr. Caramel Machiatto with Two Sweeteners and Cocoa Powder is allowed to ew Tim Hortons.” Patrick laughs as he merges into residential traffic. It’s a big Tims, so thankfully, it has the double drive-thru.

“All right,” David concedes, “but don’t say it so loud. Other people don’t have to know about my sins.”

Patrick pulls his hand off the wheel to mime a key locking his lips. David scowls, then reaches for that hand and holds it while Patrick guides the car to the end of the line.

“What are you having?” he asks. 

“You know my order,” David says, trying to sound bored, yet his eyes are trained past Patrick and on the menu. Patrick usually gets David a triple triple with an éclair and cheese danish, though if there’s something new, he’ll want to try that, too.

“Should we get some Timbits?”

“I mean, if you want…” David lets his voice trail away, uninterested to some, but Patrick know what he means.

“Why don’t we just get a full dozen?” 

“Yeah,” David says, nodding. “Your mom and dad might like some, too,” like there’ll be any left by the time they get to the house.

Patrick orders their coffees and their favourites, then tells the person through the intercom to fill out the dozen with a random selection. There’s pretty much no doughnut David won’t eat when they’re on a road trip. He’ll accompany each bite with a treatise about LA doughnuts and memories of Randy’s, but he’ll also tear off pieces for Patrick to eat while he drives, letting him lick the sugar off David’s fingers.

“What do you think Marcy has ready for the barbecue today?” David asks, leaning across the stick, fixing the rolled hem of Patrick’s shirt sleeve. He forgets sometimes that he doesn’t need an excuse to touch his husband. If Patrick didn’t need both hands to hold the giant box of doughnuts, he’d want his fingers tucked inside the rip above David’s knee. 

“She told me she’s been practicing with brisket.”

“Oh no,” David moans. The hood comes back up, but Patrick needs him to hold their drinks so he can get the car out of the way. “Please tell her she doesn’t have to do the whole Passover thing. I haven’t been to temple in literal years.”

“You can try and talk Marcy Brewer out of cooking the perfect dinner for her brand new son-in-law, but I gotta tell you...” Patrick waits until David looks up at him. “I don’t like your chances.”

He smiles a careful smile, lips pursed around the straw of his caramel Iced Capp. “If I let you play your guitar guy playlist, will you park the car and eat these doughnuts with me?”

Patrick finds the perfect spot, alone at the back of the lot, under the shade of a big maple tree.


End file.
